


Legate

by MaryTheMango



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragons, Gen, Shipping doesnt start for a while, seriously AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-05-26 23:23:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6260173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryTheMango/pseuds/MaryTheMango
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dragons are concerned at the appearance of the Breach, and send a young Ambassador to study it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Convene

**Author's Note:**

> What am I even doing

Council meetings were rarely held since the fall of Arlathan. Great spires of twisted obsidian and basalt stood unchanged for centuries- a symbol, now, more than anything.

Spats were settled, families joined within the halls, presided over by a single elder dragon.

When the sky was torn apart by ignorant hands, it was decided they would meet once more.

Dragons from all over convened at that one spot- Ofdithe. Magma dragons left their caves, aquatic dragons dragged themselves from the sea, all to discuss the fate of the world.

Only a select few could decide to do anything.

The High Council- nine dragons, two from each of the four subspecies and one arbiter- would be tasked with doing so.

They swept in, clad in their Elvhen skins as per tradition, and exchanged greetings politely amongst themselves, settling around the table with their arbiter at the head. A hand was raised, and so the discussion began.

 

Outside the citadel, dragons gathered- some circled overhead, settling delicately on the spires to await the reveal while others were content to stand before the balcony. All knew the council’s deliberations often took days, weeks, or even years- in this instance, the pulse of power they had felt was more than enough to hasten their discussion.

“We must investigate this...anomaly.”

“I disagree, allow the small ones to their fate.”

“And if it spreads? What are we to do? The dragons of the sea have told of rips in the very fabric of reality, spewing forth demons. We are fortunate to not have any as of yet, but this magic may spread. “

“We don’t even know what it is, its abilities.”

“Indeed, which is why we must investigate. Feeling it from such a distance indicates a great power, one that the small ones may be unable to control. Or worse- they may control it, and with it destroy the world.”  
A chatter broke out at this thought as the council members turned to each other.

The arbiter mutely raised her hands, signalling the cessation of discussion.

“We have heard cases from both sides. The council must now vote for or against investigating the anomaly. Councillor Yhett.”  
“I vote aye.”  
“Councillor Li’we.”  
“Aye.”  
“Councillor Nyse.”  
“Opposed.”  
Each councillor spoke their verdict until the arbiter was reached. “With a vote of 5 ‘aye’ to 3 ‘nay’,the council will order for investigation of this strange magic. Next, a representative will be chosen. Each council member will nominate one candidate from the ambassadors. Begin.”

In the antechamber, behind a solid stone door, sat four dragons. The first, and oldest, sat stiffly on his seat, head raised high with pride. Not a single strand of his white hair moved from its position plastered against his equally pale head. He gazed around the room with red eyes long since fogged over by age, unseeing but observing all the same. Simple robes adorned his body, tailored specifically for the tail he kept wrapped around his chair. His presence was a mere formality- as the oldest of ambassadors, one with experience negotiating with the Elvhen, his insight was valuable, but he would not be sent off into the unknown in his physical condition.

Next to him sat his exact opposite in demeanour. She was a jolly sort, conversing with her neighbor about this and that and the other. Great masses of tightly coiled black hair split by tall,spiralling horns adorned her head, small jolts of static hopping back and forth occasionally. She seemed to shine with youth, green eyes expressive and face still rounded. Scales adorned her cheekbones, iridescent purple contrasting beautifully against her dark skin. The youth gesticulated wildly, revealing sharp, silver claws at the end of scaled hands. Though she was certainly the youngest of the group, her experience was nothing to laugh at- she had traveled across Thedas as an apprentice, gathering information for her kin,while avoiding detection by the locals.

Her conversational partner, meanwhile, was bored witless. Every so often at the correct places they would nod, feigning interest in the young dragon’s stories. They slouched in their chair, head resting against their hand with a sort of unrefined grace. Discomfort caused them to shift- they hated the Elvhen form, preferring the freedom their draconic body provided. Their skin was as black as pitch, and on it grew no hair. In place of where hair would be for the Elvhen sprouted scales of deep emerald green, larger in size towards their forehead and becoming finer closer to their neck. They were a descendent of one of the original ambassadors, one who had died just recently and indicated they were to take his place.

The shortest of their group lounged on the couch, staring up at the ceiling as if it held the secrets of the universe. She was the most human appearing out of all of them, the only indication of draconic blood the horns peaking up from pin-straight hair. A quiet sea dragon, she spoke prophecy in rhyme. She hailed from the deep southern waters, tanned from days spent sunbathing for what heat she couldn’t insulate. The isolation was ideal for her, shy as she was- seals and whales were her playmates, advising her whenever small ones would come around.

Shadows grew longer as the day passed- a meal served, water provided. It wouldn’t be long, the waiter said, but this should tide you over ‘til then.

It was just as the waiter had indicated- not even five minutes later the arbiter stepped in, pointing at the iridescent dragon. She stood up quickly, spilling food everywhere, and bowed. The arbiter’s lip twitched slightly with humour, and she boomed “You! Iryseth! Come with me to the main hall.”

Iryseth was overjoyed, almost bouncing over to the arbiter. An intellectual dragon at heart, she had felt the change and NEEDED to examine it as closely as possible. As they walked through to the main meeting hall, she postulated what it could possibly have been. The small ones certainly were getting more powerful! Last she had seen, they were still fumbling with magic in the most adorable way.

The arbiter stopped suddenly and Iryseth nearly smashed her nose against her back, drawn from her thoughts. The heavy stone door creaked open slowly, revealing a room she had only seen once before. Iryseth bowed low to each of the council members before the arbiter dragged her inside, standing by the head of the table.

“Councillors. This is the ambassador chosen for the job- Iryseth of the clan Hyphea. She will travel to the continent and investigate the breach, representing all of dragon kind. Do you accept this decision?” A chorus of “aye”’s rung out. The arbiter turned to Iryseth.

“Iryseth. This mission is of the utmost importance. Not only are you to provide reports of your findings, you must remain as covert as possible. You will take up a job in the town called “Haven” as a barmaid. Failure to complete the mission will not be tolerated, and you may be exiled. Is that clear?” Iryseth nodded hesitantly and offered a small “aye”. “Good. One outfit will be afforded to you- any and all other expenses must be paid for using your own coin. You will report to the Master of the Spies, Cyweth,on the first of each month. May the wind assist you.” She bowed low, exiting the chamber.

Soon, it was time to leave. The cover of night would serve her well on this journey- with a thought she shifted, sharp claws clicking on the stone platform. Iryseth checked to make sure everything was in place- the small leather bag containing clothes,instructions, and a map was tied around her neck, and she wouldn’t need much else.

She reared back, pushing off the stone with powerfully coiled muscles to build up speed. Large, leathery wings spread as she neared the end of the platform, and with a jump she launched herself into the air. The great dragon pumped her wings furiously to gain altitude, circling upwards around the Spire. Below her, her compatriots roared out their well wishes, becoming distant as she finally reached altitude and set off for the town called “Haven”.


	2. Mishap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best laid plans.

Of course, things rarely ever go according to plan.

Her flight over the ocean was uneventful, since the dragons of the seas had brewed up a terrible storm to distract those who might stop her, but landing...Landing was a different story.

Since Haven was bustling (as much as one town could bustle), she had been instructed to land far enough away that no suspicions would be roused- but not too far, lest the situation change. Unfortunately, her closest available landing spot was occupied by a high dragon- with dragonlings, no less.

Normally, the dragons- their very distant relatives, considered more “primitive” than those who could shed their skins- could be reasoned with, or bribed. The new clutch of dragonlings made this impossible, and so instead of a nice, pleasant landing Iryseth found herself talon to talon with who could be her distant cousin.

They landed, still grappled, chunks of dirt and stone and whatnot flying every which way. Her only chance of escaping with her skin relatively intact seemed to be to fight, but she was loathe to do it, as she had a huge weakness for dragonlings and leaving them to die would itch at her conscience.

Iryseth hissed at the high dragon, who currently held her tail in her mouth. Such an action had basically hamstrung her- her tail was not strong enough to fling a fully grown dragon, and her back claws had been designed to gut.So, instead of violence, she tried the ancient method of misdirection- a smoke-laden spell left her lips, stinging the eyes of her “foe”. As the high dragon pulled back, her tail left with it, causing the high dragon to stumble and fall backwards.

She used this opportunity to run, shifting her shape to one more suited to the forests, bag of clothing miraculously still attached and swinging behind her as the dragon roared out its frustration. Briefly, she mourned the loss of her tail, but knew it would grow back- and it wouldn’t matter when she was among the smaller species, anyways, as she would shed her whole skin.

The shedding. Iryseth winced, winded as she slowed her pace. She would need some place safe to shed- changing size was one thing, but becoming another species was a different matter entirely.

Skin changing took centuries to master, and started with the scales- the most painful part. Scales would need to be sloughed off and disposed of; in ancient times, those who wished to shift often had to do this manually, but a potion had since been developed that would stimulate this process.

The potion was not in her pack, as no dragon truly had use for a flask. Instead, the raw ingredients were carefully minced and measured, and required only spring water to activate. She had to do nothing except get the ingredients from her sack, which at her smaller size was a much more manageable job. Dragons were quite dextrous, after all- they had to be, to learn the Elvhen writing necessary for diplomacy.

Iryseth loped through the forest, bag in her mouth, until she came across a slow-running stream. With a swipe of her claw, she moved the rocks to both create a basin, and divert the still running water around it. Down went her bag, and she delicately reached one clawed hand into the sack to fish out the ingredients.

She tossed the herbs into the basin and watched as they dissolved, stirring occasionally with a claw until her little concoction turned a deep green. With what could only be described as a wince she shoved her muzzle in, scooping out as much as possible in one go before tipping her head back and letting the sludge drip down her throat. She glanced longingly at the fresh water rushing past before repeating the process- each mouthful seemed worst than the last, until finally she hit rock and no more could be obtained. After that final mouthful she destroyed the basin and drank for what felt like hours, trying to wash away the bitter herbs lingering in her mouth.

 

After the whole ordeal was over with, she knew she would have to find a place to hide. The descaling process was painful, even with the potion- it was just expedited, and less messy. There were many hideaways she could choose, but she had heard that the being inhabiting this particular land mass loved to stick their noses places where frankly they did not belong, and so her safety wasn’t assured.

Her hide itched and she absently rubbed against a tree- off came the scales, their hold in her skin weakened as was their strength. She had no time to find a hiding place- it had already begun, and so with a heaving sigh she helped the scales along. The ones from her face she had to pluck herself, as their hold was much stronger and could only be fractionally weakened by the potion.

*

As the dawn rose, the painful process came to a close. Scales glittered like diamond dust in the sun light, scattering away to leave not a trace of what had occured. She stood there, a scaleless dragon, shivering in the harsh cold.

At least the hard part was over, she thought to herself, before focusing her attentions inward.

Bones shortened and reformed with sickening pops- all but 32 of her teeth fell out, scattering the forest floor. Her claws and horns shifted their structure as her hands shrunk- smaller nails formed as the dark, wickedly curved claws that had graced her hands fell away. Finally, the transformation was done- in the place of a dragon, a naked elvhen girl crouched, shivering in the breeze.

Slowly Iryseth straightened, looking down at her hands and flexing them as if to test their capabilities. She walked unsteadily over to her bag and pulled out the clothing- without her tail, her balance was minimal, so she braced herself against a tree as she pulled pants on one leg at a time. Next came the breastband- she wondered briefly at its necessity, since dragons did not feed their young the same way and as such had no need for such organs. It seemed like a hindrance to her, these strange parts, but if she were to investigate the anomaly she must fit in.

A short, brown tunic was her final piece of clothing, pulled over a head of tightly coiled silver-white hair. One had to have some vanity, after all, despite taking a different shape.

Once fully clothed, Iryseth gathered the claws and teeth scattered around, placing them in the bag that had once carried her clothing. One final glance was enough to confirm nothing remained, and so she straightened her back, looked briefly at the map packed away in her bag, and headed towards Haven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *=  
> (I want this sentence in but it’s too silly, so here)As the dawn rose, the nugs left their burrows to a strange sight- a creature that looked almost exactly like them, but smelled of danger and fire.


	3. Settling In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK So I got really excited to write,but completely bombed the second half. So uh. Yeah. Let me know if it reads ok. I'm going to sleep.

She had forgotten how much humans stunk.

 

Walking into Haven was a study in controlling her facial muscles, preventing her nose from wrinkling to ward off the foul stench so common in human settlements. The guards looked at her oddly as she stopped just inside the gates but she paid them no mind, acclimating herself to what would be her home for the foreseeable future. She took a fortifying breath and stepped deeper into the town.

 _A haven, huh. They have an odd idea of a haven.,_ Iryseth thought wryly, glancing around at the quite frankly primitive town. Sewage was simply thrown into the cobblestone street, flowing vaguely downhill towards the poorer tenements. Children ran amok, weaving between the feet of disgruntled humans, stealing produce and just generally being a nuisance.

 

And the elves! Iryseth was shocked. Their heads were all bowed- a once proud race, cowed by time and misfortune. She vaguely regretted their “non involvement” policy- the dragons were of the mind that if they attempted to help, the general consensus would be “ahh, dragons! Run!” and nothing would get done. Either that, or a repeat of the Vashoth would crop up.

 

As she was contemplating,someone bumped into her and mumbled something about a “knife-ear”. Thrown off balance, and without her tail to steady her, she fell, sacrificing her hands to the cobblestone to prevent her head from being injured. Temper flared momentarily deep in her chest- _foolish mortal, how dare you, I am the home to more power than you can even begin to contemplate-_ but she quickly swallowed it, shakily maneuvering to her feet on the slippery cobblestones. Diplomacy was supposed to be her forte. What kind of ambassador would she be if she couldn’t reign in her temper? Granted, she was more “spy” than “ambassador” at the moment, but hopefully, if all went well, that would change. Irsyeth hated spying- not because she was terrible at it, but because she found keeping secrets so... _dull_. Always having to remember your lies, never knowing when someone might find you out- all were part of her life for the foreseeable future, and she hated it.

 _Maybe I’ll blow my cover on purpose._ She snorted- out loud, if the look she received from a passerby was any indication- and grabbed the icy-cold handle to the tavern.

 

The tavern was surprisingly warm, she noted, a pleasant contrast to the biting chill outside. Hay scattered the ground near the fireplace- a fire hazard if she’d ever seen one-, and well melted candles puddled onto wood tables, but it was homey enough, she supposed. Furs hung from the walls, as well as what she guessed was the Inquisition’s banner. Chairs and tables, both freestanding and otherwise filled the room. A surprising amount of people took shelter in the small space, standing with fermented beverages in their hands. To be fair, she wouldn’t want to be out there, either.

Iryseth jolted as if just remembering her mission, rummaging around in her pack for the letter. She pricked her finger on a claw and winced- she supposed she should do something about those before someone tried to pickpocket her. Finally, after what seemed like five minutes, she grabbed the piece of paper, walking over to the bar and clearing her throat. The human- Flissa, her informant had said- looked up abruptly, and Iryseth gave her best smile. Judging by the look on her face, she fell a bit short.

“Hi...Uh. I’m Iryseth. The.. the new hire?” She played up the whole “submissive elf” act, dropping her eyes to the floor as she offered up the slip.

“Ah, yes! They didn’t tell me you were….Well, nevermind! I’m sure we’ll find something for you to do! Let’s start with what’s expected of you..”

As the human spoke, Iryseth nodded along, pretending to listen attentively. Don’t spit in anyone’s drinks, be on time, don’t get drunk on the clock, same for fraternizing.. As if she would ever stoop to such levels. Soon enough, the speech was done, and Iryseth was dismissed to move what little she had into the provided housing. It was, as it turned out, downhill. Internally she was disgusted, but not a single glimpse of that was visible.

 

She forced the door open and stepped outside, instantly buffeted by the cold air. Honestly, it was more of a minor annoyance, and one she could easily remedy with a spell. Mages in this culture, however, were considered a danger- she didn’t want a stupid warming spell to compromise her mission. Though she had heard the inquisitor was a mage- Dalish, a people far removed from what she was used to-, she didn’t want to risk it and end up exiled or dead.

 

Her attention was broken by the sudden invasion of pure stench into her nostrils. This time there was no controlling it- her nose wrinkled and she very nearly dropped her bag to cover her face. Absolutely disgusting. Her quarters, at least, had a door, which she opened and slid inside.

 

It had one window, covered by a gently wafting sheet of mysteriously stained fabric. Two beds, two dressers (if you could even call them that), and a few crates were the only furniture. Apparently, she was sharing a room, and her roommate had already decorated. A piece of metal hung from the wall, shined to vaguely resemble a mirror. A single cotton blanket was crumpled on the bed- somehow, even with sparse belongings, her roommate had created an absolute mess. She shrugged and tossed her bag onto the unoccupied bed. As far as quarters went, they weren’t….ok, so they were pretty bad, but at least there were four walls and a bed. They had even provided a blanket, which was considerate of them. She stood for a moment, hands on her hips, observing the small room. Flissa had requested her return to the tavern after she had settled in, likely to work. There was no fireplace in her room, she noted. The tavern would certainly be warmer.

Decision made, she exited her temporary home and trudged back to the tavern.

* * *

 

 

 

    The tavern had somehow gotten busier. It had only been.. what, thirty minutes? And already it was packed full. She guessed the allure of a fire place was too great to ignore. She went to Flissa, who almost instantly loaded her up with beers and sent her off to serve. Her first stop was to the newly arrived mercenary group, Bull’s Chargers. Evidently they had just gotten back from the Storm Coast and were celebrating a new job.

“You’ll know who they are,” Flissa had promised. As she scanned the tavern and almost immediately saw large, black horns she bit back a groan. A Vashoth. Great. She just hoped she didn’t smell too dragony. Vashoth had noses nearly as good as dragons, and he’d sniff her out in an instant if she wasn’t careful.

She weaved through the crowds as gracefully as possible while balancing eight tankards of beer on a platter, making her way to their table. They were a loud and varied group of people, Iryseth noted with interest. A human or two, a dwarf, a few elves.. And, of course, the Vashoth himself. She steeled herself and assumed her meek elf persona, stepping to the table and placing the tray down.

One of the elves didn’t seem to be with the group- she was tilted away from them, shifty and nervous. It seemed like she wanted to be anywhere but there. Iryseth could empathise and served her first, placing the tankard in front of her with a muted thunk. The elf thanked her and looked up, and Iryseth nearly stepped back in shock. A slave to Mythal? Did that mean the Empire had not fallen? She vowed to research more later and smiled hastily in response, serving the others before finally standing beside the Vashoth. One eye was covered by an eyepatch- she made a note to never stand on that side. He could be twitchy. He thanked her with a growled “thanks!” and what could have been a wink, if he had had both eyes. Eager to get away, she played the terrified elf and ran back towards Flissa.

The night went much the same- at one point, another dwarf had entered, sitting down next to the Mythal-slave and requesting a beer. The tavern had cleared out somewhat, so carrying over what now was nine tankards was not a problem. Weight wise, she supposed she should be showing fatigue- the drinks were fairly heavy- so instead of using her tray to shuttle them all over, she carried them two at a time. The first two were placed in front of the dwarf and the elf beside him, then to the rest.. Again, she saved the Vashoth for last. She hoped he thought she was scared of him- as a tiny elf woman, it would have been the most likely conclusion.

As she turned to walk away, she was stopped by the dwarf.

“Hey, you’re new here,right?” He asked, knowing full well she was. “What’s your name?”

Iryseth turned the shy elf act up to 100. “I-Iryseth, ser. I just started today..” She clasped her hands in front of her body, forcing a blush onto her face.

“Well! I’m Varric Tethras. It’s nice to meet you. That’s quite a name! Where’re you from?” The Vashoth seemed to be interested in this question, too. She’d have to be careful. “Oh...I’m from the Marches. Uh...Master Tethras, as pleasant as it is talking, I will need to get back to work very soon.”

“You’ll be fine! I won’t keep you too long, I just make it a point to know who’s handling my food.” He winked at her and her lips twitched in an involuntary grin. He seemed like a good sort, but he asked so many questions- questions she would need to carefully consider. She glanced around the tavern- it certainly seemed slow now, slow enough that denying him would look suspicious.

“Oh, well.. It’s- it’s nice to meet you, Ser Tethras. “ Iryseth gave a curtsy, or at least attempted one, wobbling on her feet.

Varric grinned and motioned to the Vashoth with his mug. “I’ll let Tiny introduce himself.”

Now trapped very thoroughly in a conversational corner, she turned towards the hulking man, glancing up at him. He didn’t seem suspicious- in fact, she couldn’t read his expression at all. That was worrying. “I’m The Iron Bull. And these are my Chargers..” The Vashoth- Bull, she reminded herself- introduced each of his soldiers in turn. They were all slightly tipsy, she deduced, or just very close- never had she seen such a varied group be so friendly. Iryseth made herself relax slightly, still avoiding searching eyes. “Uh...I...might have trouble remembering names, I’m sorry, but it’s nice to meet you all.” Iron Bull nodded, motioning to the Mythal-marked elf. “One last person to meet! This is the Boss. “

The Boss. As in who hired the Chargers. Someone with enough power to HIRE someone in the organisation. A Dalish elf. It all clicked. This was the Herald. She dropped into a low, low curtsy, biting down her pride and professing “what an honour it is to meet the Herald” and “I am at your service, my lady.” The elf looked extremely uncomfortable and requested to be called by just her name- “Ellana, or Ellana Lavellan if I’m in trouble with the Keeper.”

Pleasantries exchanged, Iryseth nodded and took their orders for yet more beer. The order certainly wasn’t small, but she supposed if she had the Dreaming on her hand she’d drink a lot, too.

Soon her shift ended and she said her goodbyes, much to the chagrin of the Chargers. “Maybe when I’m off we can talk more!” She said, and immediately regretted it. Talking more was exactly what she was trying to avoid in the first place. They seemed appeased, though, and let her leave without a problem.

Iryseth made her way down the cobblestone walk for the final time that night, raising her hood against the wind that bit at her ears. All in all it was a good night, despite the fact she had somehow managed to get an introduction to the Herald. That was the exact opposite of incognito.

She sighed, opening the door to her shared hovel and flopping on the bed. Her roommate still wasn’t back yet. Now was the best time to hide her stuff, she supposed, but she was exhausted. Under the bed it would go, then.

Iryseth stripped down to her small clothes and slid under the rather scratchy covers, out almost instantly. It had been a long day, but tomorrow was promising.   

 


	4. Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iryseth learns more about the markings on the elves, and muses on the Qunari.

The Qunari, she mused, were an excellent example of wasted potential.

The union between an elf and a dragon should have-and did, initially- produce exceptional beings, ones capable of manipulating the Fade and their own internal energies. Most lines she knew of- hers included- boasted at least one Elvhen ancestor; it was considered a sort of boon to have this blood.

Some lines thought differently. They grew fearful of their own power, and instead of learning to control it, selectively bred to suppress any sort of magic. Soon, they lost the ability to do anything a dragon could do, left only with superficial attributes.

Magic still attempted to fight its way through the tightly controlled line, resulting in what they called Saarebas. Removed immediately from society and bound at the first sign of magic, their horns shorn -the highest sign of disgrace in her society-, their mouths sewn shut, dependent- no Councillor would assign that as punishment to even the worst criminal. It made her shudder just thinking about it.

Their very society was a curiosity. An entire language sprung up, brought on by their changing structures and cultural needs. They seemed the antithesis of her society, which valued independence and power above all things. Sometimes she wondered what caused this split- there was no religion observed in either society, no schism besides their ideas on power.

As she worked, she wondered, mopping the floors with a caustic lye solution. Flissa didn’t care if she moved a bit slowly, as long as everything was done before the patrons came in- perfectly acceptable to her, as it meant less time spent interacting with the Elves.

At least the Elvhen didn’t smell offensive, though everyone picked up a stench when they lived in Haven. She was pretty sure she was starting to smell, as well, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. Rag baths were all she could afford at the moment.

Someone broke her thoughts with a slam of the door, tracking mud(and probably excrement) onto her freshly cleaned floors. A twinge of irritation caused her eyebrows to furrow, but she quickly smoothed out her expression as she turned to face the being.

Ah! It was one of the Elvhen who bore the vallaslin. This one’s was different, however- squinting, she identified it as Falon’Din’s. Strange, considering the last she had seen had been bound to Mythal. This one had just gotten back from hunting, if their still-blooded weapons could be believed.

Evidently she had been staring for too long, because the elf turned to her with a sneer. He was handsome, if one ignored the brands on his face. She almost admired him further until he opened his mouth.

“What is it you’re looking at, flat-ear?” He very nearly growled- Iryseth was almost impressed, then amused. Technically, she didn’t even have ears in her true form. The insult seemed ridiculous to her. She recognized the opening to question him about his brands, and assumed her meek persona.

“Oh, excuse me, ser. I’d just….never seen markings like that before!” Iryseth ducked her head in embarrassment, and the man relaxed.

“Oh,you’ve never seen a Dalish elf before? Guess that makes sense, you must be from an alienage. “ He seemed to puff up at her attention, and she smirked inwardly. She didn’t even need to get him comfortable first.

“May I ask a question?”  
He, of course, acquiesced, seeming amused at what she imagined he found inferior.  
“Well, what are those markings?”

This very simple question seemed to trigger the man into gesticulating wildly, prattling on about the “superiority of the Dalish” and “Honouring their ancestors”.  
The conversation was mostly one sided- she would often punctuate with little noises to assure him she was still listening- until he shot a question back.

“So..Would you ever want to leave the Alienage?”  
Iryseth smiled. “Well, I’m here, aren’t I?”  
“But I mean, as a FREE elf! Not having to work for shemlen, constantly terrified of being beaten or killed..”

She pretended to think for a minute. “Well, it seems like this is a pretty good place, right? The Herald is Dalish. I can’t imagine elves getting a bad treatment here.”  
“Pah. No true Dalish would bow to humans like that.”

Iryseth very nearly rolled her eyes, but could sense his agitation. Obviously this topic was one she should avoid. “R-right, of course…Well. Uh, thank you for answering me! I do have to finish cleaning up, so if you’ll excuse me..”

“Actually,” He replied, “I have some meat to deliver. I figured I’d get a drink while I was here. “ Iryseth looked him over again, noting the red-stained burlap bag by his side, blood slowly puddling out of it onto her clean floor. She took a deep breath to steel herself, mumbled a response, and leaned her mop against the closest table to get the hunter a drink.

After that task was done, she took to cleaning the tables- mopping would be pointless until the hunter left, and she needed something to do so he wouldn’t bother her into snapping. An awkward silence fell over the tavern until the hunter stood, tossed a few silver onto the counter, and hauled the supplies to the nearby kitchen- the blood had stopped dripping, she noted thankfully, but his boots still tracked mud straight back into the kitchen.

The Ambassador-turned-spy sighed, grabbed her mop, and began to mop the tracks and blood from the tavern floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I've been applying for internships like crazy. If I get the one I want, you might not be seeing me around as much! I wanted to thank all the kudosers and reviewers for the kudos and reviews! They really mean a lot to me, especially since I read a lot of y'alls stuff! Yall really motivate me to keep going, so thank you. <3


	5. Missives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short interlude.

To the Council;

        A few weeks living in the place they call Haven and I can feel my psyche suffer. The stench is horrendous and pervasive; I fear I will never get it out of my nostrils. No one has confronted me yet. It seems the fall of the Elvhen has rendered them invisible- no one notices a serving girl.

  
      The elves are disturbingly stunted in their growth. It is no wonder, considering their rationing favors the humans.  
The Herald- a religious figure who bears the mark of the Fade on her hand and the ability to close rifts- is a Dalish mage. The Dalish are the descendents of the Elvhen, and seem to have forgotten their culture altogether. The vallaslin is revered as a mark of adulthood and a tribute to their God of choice instead of binding slave markings.  
Much has changed since the Fall.  
The Elvhen are no longer one people, which would explain why they haven't simply risen up and taken control.  
There is a Vashoth aiding the Inquisition. I am uncertain if he is Tal-Vashoth or Qunari, but whatever he is, he hides a strategic mind. He is a mercenary, as many are, with a love of drink and carnal pleasure. I will maintain my distance, as I am not certain if he has as sharp of a nose as our cousins.

  
I'm sure you know of the three at the head of operations. I have avoided contact with them and intend to continue doing so unless ordered otherwise.

Other people of interest for their closeness to the Herald are a Child of the Stone, an Elvhen mage, and a human Seeker.

The mage seems familiar in ways I cannot quite name. I haven't gotten close enough to verify, but his scent is not like the elves of this age. Please search for any records of a Solas.

The Child of the Stone is a storyteller, eager to learn of other’s pasts but reluctant to share his own. He wields a most curious weapon- a modified crossbow. I haven't seen it in action, but he brags enough I feel I know the scope of its abilities.

 

I have been unable to get close enough to the Breach to examine it. It is guarded day and night by patrolling soldiers.

Perhaps one day I will be able to see the scope of the Herald’s abilities. I am certain I could become close to her, as the Dalish are fond of any knowledge of their ancestors and I certainly have enough of that to spare.

 

May this letter find you in good health.  
Iryseth

 

Iryseth sighed, putting down her quill and staring down at the coded message. Tomorrow she would escape to the woods to pass it along. Idly she rolled up the scroll, tying it with a piece of sinew and hiding it in her pouch.

  
She didn't fear discovery, as the runes used by dragonkind were unknown to the people of this time, but something gnawed at her nerves anyway. A gut feeling, like she had just swallowed stones, telling her something would go wrong very shortly.

The candle sputtered and extinguished itself, startling her out of her thoughts. Her door slammed, announcing the entrance of her roommate, and Iryseth decided it was time to end the day. There wasn't much she could do with a dead candle anyway she figured, offering a quiet goodnight to her fellow elf and tossing her bag under the crudely constructed bed before climbing onto it herself.

She would need to rise early tomorrow if she wanted to avoid the guards, and sleep beckoned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've moved to Portland! Yay! 
> 
> I'll be starting a full time job shortly, so I have no idea how that's gonna effect the fic, but if you want updates, meta and memes I'm on Tumblr as polarbaroness.
> 
>  
> 
> I accept input and would love to incorporate your OCs, whether they be dragons or not. 
> 
> I've been told I'm chill, so don't be afraid to send me a chat!


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